


Haifisch

by FrauSchneider



Category: Emigrate (Band), Feeling B, Lindemann, Rammstein
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, M/M, Shower Sex, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauSchneider/pseuds/FrauSchneider
Summary: This work is an apology of sorts to Landers86 for the way I treated Paul in 'Eifersucht'. This story has very little plot and lots of smut. I hope you enjoy!I realise as things have progressed, that there is more plot and less smut than originally anticipated. Ooops!!





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [landers86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/landers86/gifts).



> As always, this is a work of fiction.

Paul wandered over to the other side of the stage, where Flake was running through a quick series of arpeggios to loosen up his fingers ahead of that evening’s show. He jumped up the short set of steps leading to the raised platform which served as the stage’s backline, housing the drum kit, keyboards and bass guitars, and approached the lanky keyboard player.

“That’s me all set up. How about you?”

Flake looked up from the keyboards to Paul. “I’m just about done, I think. Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to what we were talking about earlier?”

Flake pointed at the live mic in front of him, reminding Paul that the crew could hear their conversation. “Just a sec.” Then directly into the mic, “How are the levels? Have you got everything you need?”

He listened to the sound engineer’s response that was relayed through his in-ear monitor, before nodding and giving a thumbs-up in the direction of the front-of-house mixing desk. He switched his mic off and turned to Paul.

“Honestly, Paul, I don’t know what more I can add to what I’ve already said. You either tell Richard how you feel about him, and deal with whatever response he gives you, or you don’t, and you continue making me wallow in your misery. It’s as simple as that – but if you’re going to tell him, I suggest you do it soon. The tour’s nearly over, and we’ll all be going off on our various holidays and projects. You know what we’re like – it could be months before we see each other again – and by the time we get together again Richard could have started another relationship.”

Unbeknownst to the two men talking, Richard had been approaching the stage ready to do his part for the sound check when he heard his name mentioned. Curious to know what was being said about him, he halted in his tracks, and listened in.

“But what if I tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same way? I’m not sure I could finish the rest of the tour following a rejection. I’d be too embarrassed to be anywhere near him.”

“If Richard only sees you as a friend and colleague, you’ll just have to respect that and move on. I’m sure you could manage the handful of gigs left whatever his answer. But from what I’ve seen of how he is around you, I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual.”

Richard found his jaw had dropped slightly in surprise. He’d thought that all the overt displays of affection on stage, and wherever a camera was pointed in their direction, were all part of the act the pair of them had built up over the years as a way of teasing the fans. The fact that his feelings for Paul were apparently reciprocated by the other guitarist was a source of great joy. He almost shouted out in triumph, but he remembered that he was eavesdropping and would give himself away, and that would probably make Paul die of embarrassment. He decided to walk to the other end of the backstage area and approach the pair from Paul’s side of the stage. He slipped away quietly before any crew spotted him lurking, hoping that Flake would be able to persuade Paul to confess his feelings to him soon.

By the time he’d made his way onto stage right, Paul and Flake had descended from the raised area and were in quiet conversation near Richard’s section. He greeted them as he approached, trying to act as naturally as possible.

“Hey guys, how’s it going? Are they ready for me yet?”

Paul’s cheeks flushed slightly at the sight of Richard. Flake decided to answer for them both. “They’ve done our individual checks, once you’ve done yours they’re going to do one more group check and then we can go back to the hotel until it’s time to return.”

Richard nodded. The individual checks made sure that they were happy with their own instruments’ set up, but a group check allowed the engineers to make sure that no one was drowning out the others, and that the musicians had the mix being sent to their in-ear monitors set at a comfortable level.

“Speaking of the hotel, they’ve arranged for us to have exclusive use of the indoor pool for a couple of hours. I’m going to take advantage of it, either of you care to join me?”

Flake spotted an opportunity to help Paul out. “I’m going for a walk with Till, but I’m sure Paul will keep you company, won’t you Paul?”

He gave the short guitarist a pointed look, daring him to disagree and face his disapproval after their chat.

“Um… I don’t have anything else planned other than a spot of reading, so I guess I could join you.”

“Cool, it’s a date then!” Richard responded with a grin, as he stepped past them to grab the first guitar he wanted to check.

Flake stopped himself from laughing out loud, Paul’s face had turned crimson, in fact, the tips of his ears were a reddish hue as well. The smaller man hurried over to his side of the stage on the pretext of checking his own guitars for any issue that might have suddenly occurred during the short time since he put them in their rack. Flake thought to himself that he ought to film the guitarists’ interactions and play them back for the others to enjoy, with popcorn…

He smiled to himself, plotting to ensure that the two guitarists were the only ones to use the pool. Till was already sorted, he just had to have a chat with Ollie and Schneider, who he was certain would agree when he told them what was going on. They’d long suspected that Paul and Richard wanted to go beyond their platonic friendship, but neither one had shown any inclination of making the first move, so this was a chance too good to miss. He headed offstage in search of the other two backline members, determined to speak to them before the final check.

***

Paul could see that Richard was already in the pool when he arrived. He made his way into one of the cubicles and pushed the lock into place. Stripping off quickly, he dug out his swimming trunks from the bag into which he’d thrown everything he decided he’d need, and slipped them on. He folded his clothes carefully, then exited, carrying everything over to the secure lockers provided. 

He chose one at random, depositing a token into the mechanism that would release the key once the door was locked, then placed his belongings inside. He put his towel and shower gel at the front of the locker so that he wouldn’t get everything else soaked searching for them after his swim. Satisfied that he was finally ready, he shut the door and turned the key in the lock, removing it and securing it to his wrist by the strap provided.

Paul made his way through the door into the pool area, and looked around for Richard. He couldn’t see him at first, but after a few seconds the water’s surface broke as Richard came up for air. Seeing Paul, he grinned and subsequently accidentally swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated water, making him cough and splutter as he swam the last few strokes to the shallow end of the pool.

“Are you okay, Reesh?” Paul’s face was a mask of concern, as he leaned over the edge of the pool.

“Aw, were you worried about me, Paulie? I’ll be fine, I’ve swallowed worse things in my time!” 

“Are you being crude? You are, aren’t you?”

Richard gave his best innocent face. “Who, me? Never! I’m hurt you’d even suggest such a thing!” He made his lower lip tremble, as if he was about to cry.

“Asshole!” Paul said, splashing some water at Richard’s face, as he got in the water.

Richard laughed, and launched himself away from the side, slicing through the water with powerful strokes. Paul shook his head and started swimming, although at a much slower pace than the other guitarist. He gradually clocked up over a kilometre, before deciding he’d done enough for one day. He made his way to the steps and pulled himself up out of the water.

“Hey, Reesh – I’m going to get head back to my room for a quick nap before they pick us up.”

“Okay, hang on. I’m finished here too.”

They made their way back to the changing room and grabbed their towels and shower gel from the lockers, before heading into the shower cubicles. Paul turned the shower on, and stood under the flowing water, enjoying the heat seeping into his sore muscles, letting out an involuntary moan.

“Enjoying yourself in there, Paulie?” Richard enquired from the adjacent cubicle, amused.

“I’m so stiff and sore, I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through tonight’s performance.”

The water stopped running in Richard’s cubicle, and Paul heard the door swing open and shut again as a Richard stepped out. “Let me in, I’ll help get the knots out of your muscles.”

Paul hesitated, just for a moment, but opened the door. Richard had a towel around his midriff, but he removed it and draped it over the top of the cubicle door, so that it wouldn’t get soaked before it was needed again. Paul blushed as he realised that Richard wasn’t wearing his trunks, he just hoped that the steam from the hot water would be explanation enough for his ruddy complexion.

“Turn around Paulie, let me get to work on your kinks.”

The smaller man complied, resting his hands against the tiled wall at the rear of the cubicle, eyes closed, as Richard got to work massaging Paul’s tired muscles with firm yet gentle hands. Richard started at Paul’s neck and shoulders, gradually working his way down his back and sides towards his hips. Paul made appreciative noises throughout, making Richard smile. He dipped his head and kissed Paul on the shoulder, just as they would on stage later, only this felt more intimate.

Paul let out a small gasp of surprise as Richard’s arm snaked around his hips and cupped his crotch in his hand.

“You really are stiff, Paulchen,” Richard remarked, running his hand against the fabric of Paul’s trunks, feeling him harden at his touch. “Let me help you with that…”

Richard took hold of Paul’s trunks with both hands, slipping them over his erection before letting them drop to the floor. He turned Paul to face him and pressed his mouth to his lips, kissing him fervently. As he kissed him, he stroked Paul’s cock until the other guitarist was trembling, close to the edge. Richard dropped to his knees and, looking up into Paul’s astonished face, took his entire length into his mouth.

“Oh god, Reesh, yes…that feel’s so good…”

Paul leant his back against the wall for support, and laced the fingers of one hand in Richard’s soft black hair. Richard hummed around Paul’s cock, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head up and down along Paul’s length, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it. Paul felt his orgasm building, a firestorm in his abdomen threatening to consume him.

“I’m not going to hold out much longer…” he said, in warning.

Richard paused for a moment to look up at Paul. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

He returned his attention to Paul’s cock, determined to give Paul the best blowjob of his life. Paul felt his muscles tightening, signalling the imminent arrival of his climax. He came hard in Richard’s mouth with a shout of ecstasy, his seed coating the younger man’s throat, while Richard swallowed eagerly around Paul until there was nothing left to take. Richard pulled away and stood up, kissing Paul on the lips again as he did so. 

Paul opened his eyes and looked into Richard’s, momentarily robbed of words.

“So that’s what it takes to get you to be quiet for a few minutes, is it?” Richard asked, with a wicked grin. “Are you feeling better now?”

All Paul could manage was a brief nod, still slumped against the wall.

“Come on, Paulchen, we better get dressed so that you can get that nap in before it’s too late.”

Again, Paul just nodded, so Richard took the lead, dressing first himself, then helping Paul finish putting his clothes on. He grabbed their belongings and gently nudged Paul in the direction of the door back into the main area of the hotel. He handed the swimming pool keys over to the reception desk before catching up to Paul who was headed to the elevators.

They rode the lift to their floor in silence, which continued along the corridor to their rooms. As they got to their respective doors, opposite the corridor from each other, Paul finally found his voice.

“Reesh?”

Richard paused, fingers resting on the door handle to his room, and turned. “Yes, Paul?”

“Will you…er…do you want to join me?” He looked up, hope etched on his face.

“Sure. Give me a moment while I dump my stuff in my room…”

Richard disappeared behind his door, and Paul could hear his movements as he spread out his towels near the window where they could dry in the early afternoon sun. There was the brief sound of running water, which Paul assume was Richard rinsing his trunks before they too were laid out to dry. Then the sound of rummaging in a suitcase before Richard emerged, locking his door shut behind him.

Paul had, in the meantime, unlocked his own door, and flung his kitbag into a chair in the corner, deciding he could deal with it after his snooze. He held his door open to let Richard in, then shut it, making sure the chain and latch were in place.

Richard picked up the kitbag from where it had been abandoned and started sorting the contents in the same manner that he had with his own kit.

“Leave that Reesh, I’ll see to that later.”

“Later you’ll be rushing to get ready for the show, and after the show you’ll be too tired or too drunk.” Richard replied, quickly arranging the towels near the window, where the morning sun was slowly disappearing as it reached its zenith in the sky above the hotel. The towels would probably dry out in the room’s residual warmth, and would catch the sun’s rays the following morning if not.

Richard looked over to the bed, where Paul was sitting, removing first his boots and socks, then his jeans. “Want me to shut the curtains so you can sleep better?”

“Please.” Paul yawned, half-asleep already.

It took a couple of tugs for the heavy curtains to draw together, just the barest amount of light filtering through them. Richard crossed to the opposite side of the bed, and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Lifting up the tightly folded covers, which Richard was certain an army drill-sergeant would be happy to inspect, he pushed his legs underneath and sidled over to where Paul had settled. He could see that Paul was virtually asleep already, so he just spooned him, placing his arm around Paul’s waist and planted a kiss at the base of his neck, where it joined shoulder. 

Lying so close to Paul felt so natural, his warm, pliant body a comfortable weight against him. Richard smiled contentedly and whispered in Paul’s ear. “Sweet dreams, Paulchen,” before settling his head down on the pillow, his eyes closed against the ambient light. In a matter of seconds he was fast asleep himself.


	2. Two

Richard was woken up by the movement of the mattress when Paul turned over to face him. He smiled at him.

“Hey there,” Paul said, by way of greeting.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy. Happy. A little bit hungry.”

Richard laughed at that. “We could order room service, but…” he checked his watch, “…we’re going to be picked up in just over an hour to go for dinner before the show. So if you can hold on that long for food, I can think of something else we can do to fill the time.”

Paul appeared to give that some thought, earning him an arched eyebrow from Richard. “Well, if you’re not that bothered, I’ll just return to my room and…”

“No, don’t go!”

“I’m feeling a little unwanted since you gave so much thought to that. I need convincing that you want me more than food!” Richard said, pouting for emphasis.

Paul looked so flustered at that, it was difficult for Richard to hold back the grin he could feel tugging at the corners of his mouth. Apparently making a decision, Paul leaned forward to plant a kiss on Richard’s lips, slowly and softly at first, but as Richard started kissing back Paul grew more confident, running his tongue along Richard’s lips, seeking access to the other man’s mouth. Richard’s lips parted, allowing him in, and his arm moved to pull Paul closer, turning both of them as he did so until he was lying on top of the older man.

As they both stopped for air, Richard thought that now was a good point to check boundaries before they went too far.

“I know how I feel about you, Paul, and I want to take things further with you, but please tell me if you think we’re going too fast. I want to get this right for us both, and I know I have a tendency to dive in head first without looking, so…”

Paul placed his index finger on Richard’s lips, silencing him. “It’s been a while since I last had sex with another guy, so I’ll need you to bear that in mind, but other than that, shut up and fuck me already!”

“Such a lovely way with words, you have!” Richard responded as he turned to grab his jeans where he’d let them fall to the floor.

Paul was worried that he’d maybe said the wrong thing, and that Richard was getting dressed to leave, so he heaved a sigh of relief when he realised that Richard was just retrieving something from one of the pockets.

“Condom and lube,” Richard said, stating the obvious. “I thought I should be prepared just in case…”

Paul realised that when Richard had been rummaging in his case earlier it must have been in search of the items now in his hand. Richard peeled the rest of his clothing off, revealing his toned body and a full erection. 

“You’re staring, Paulchen,” Richard admonished, as he settled back on the bed. “It’s not as if you haven’t seen me naked before!”

Paul blushed as he removed his t-shirt and briefs.”I wasn’t about to have sex with you before, it’s a little bit different this time.”

It was Richard’s turn to sweep his gaze over the other man’s body. While Paul wasn’t as toned as himself, he was still lean. Richard felt the need to run his fingers over Paul’s skin. “Get back into bed, Paulchen.” His voice had grown huskier as his desire grew, Paul’s eyes widened on hearing the change.

He wasted no time returning to his previous spot. Richard started by kissing him again, then exploring Paul’s body with his hands, moving himself until he was covering Paul with his body, feeling both their erections between them. He turned his attention to Paul’s neck, nuzzling and nipping at the soft flesh there. Paul moaned quietly, enjoying the attention, but desperately wanting Richard to fuck him as soon as possible.

Sensing Paul’s neediness, indicated by the shorter man spreading his legs beneath him, arching his back, and clutching at Richard’s back, Richard moved himself backwards until he was kneeling between Paul’s legs. He tore open the sachet containing the lube, coating his first two fingers, then applying some to Paul’s entrance, the cold gel-like substance making Paul hiss on contact.

“Sorry, Paulie, I’ll try to warm it up a bit in future.”

Richard kissed Paul’s inner thigh, which Paul had drawn towards himself in order to give Richard easier access. “Relax for me, babe, I need to prepare you first.”

Paul tried calming his nerves by counting slowly as he took deep breaths in and out. As he exhaled Richard pushed his index finger into the tight ring of muscle, holding still while Paul relaxed again before slipping it back and forth inside him. He slowly added his middle finger, this time curling them slightly to brush against Paul’s prostate, before withdrawing again, scissoring Paul open wider as he did so. Once he felt that Paul was more comfortable with the unfamiliar presence, he started to fuck him with his fingers, watching his face for any signs of discomfort.

When Paul was a squirming mess, completely at his mercy, Richard pulled his fingers away, and tore open the condom packet, rolling the condom over his erection and coating its surface with some of the lube. Paul watched the process with undisguised interest, and drew his legs up towards his chest once he saw Richard was ready for him.

“You still okay?” Richard asked, wanting to be sure that this is what Paul wanted.

“Yes, I want you inside me – now!”

Richard leaned forward, over him, and kissed him. “Your wish is my command!” he whispered into Paul’s ear.

Paul took hold of the back of his knees, pulling his legs up towards his chest, providing Richard with a good angle for penetration. The younger man responded by taking hold of his own penis, and pushing against Paul’s loosened hole, inserted it inch by inch until he was sheathed to the root. Paul let go of his legs and wrapped them around Richard’s waist, heels resting near the small of his back. His freed up hands stroked the other man’s upper arms and back, his head tilted backwards on the pillow offering up his throat to his lover.

Richard started thrusting against Paul, slowly initially, mindful of the shorter man’s lack of recent experience. Once he was certain that Paul wasn’t in any discomfort he increased the rhythm, gradually building up speed, the sound of flesh pounding against flesh filling the room, accompanied by the moans of both men as they each drew closer to their orgasms. 

“Oh god, Reesh, you feel so good…I’m gonna come any moment…”

“Don’t hold back, baby, come for me…”

As Richard’s cock hit his prostate again, Paul let out a loud cry, his semen spilling in warm droplets over his chest and abdomen, while his muscles constricted around Richard, pulling the younger man over the edge with him. Richard continued thrusting while he rode out his orgasm, becoming more shaky and erratic as the euphoria dissipated and fatigue set in. He leant forward and laved Paul’s chest and abdomen with his tongue. Paul could taste himself on Richard’s tongue as he moved up to kiss him passionately.

Richard withdrew as he felt himself softening inside Paul, and rolled over so he could dispose of the condom before returning to Paul’s side. The shorter man had his eyes closed, one arm thrown across his face, chest rising and falling heavily as he waited for his heart-rate and breathing returning to normal. Richard smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Paul’s soft stomach.

“Are you okay, Paulchen?”

Paul put his arm down and opened his eyes to look at Richard.

“No, I’m very definitely not okay…I’m pretty sure I just died, went to heaven, and have just come crashing back down to earth!”

“Wow. That sounds serious! Anything I can do to help you feel better?” Richard asked, amused.

“You can ravage my body again, but I guess we’ll have to wait until after the show.” He looked at his watch. “We better get showered and ready for dinner. We’ve not got long.”

Richard looked at his own watch and grimaced. He scooped up his discarded clothing and got dressed quickly.

“My room, after the party?” he asked as he fumbled around for his room key.

“It’s a date!” Paul said, rising up on his toes to give Richard a quick kiss on the lips. Richard flashed him a wide grin before he disappeared out of Paul’s room and across the corridor into his own.

Checking his door was locked, and the security chain in place, Paul made his way into the bathroom. He set the shower flowing, letting the water get up to heat before stepping into the cubicle. He spent a minute just letting the water cascade over his head and down his body, while his mind wandered, replaying everything that had happened since the sound check that morning.

***  

Paul made it down to the foyer before Richard had even left his room, giving Flake opportunity to quiz him about his afternoon.

“You’re looking a little tired there, Paul, did you have a good session with Richard?”

Till glanced up from the comfy chair he was sitting in, while they waited for the minibus to take them to the restaurant, curious about their conversation.

“Yeah, I think I did a few lengths of the pool too many. I need to take it slower and steadier next time, and not try to keep up with Richard, he’s got far greater stamina than me…”

Flake snorted. “Right…that’s fine…you don’t want to tell me everything where you can be overheard – but you will spill the beans later!”

“No, I won’t! I don’t kiss and tell!” Paul replied, before walking away to talk to Ollie, in an attempt to avoid embarrassing himself by gushing about his afternoon with Richard. 

Till watched the short guitarist walk away through narrowed eyes, brow furrowed as thoughts raced through his head. His attention was pulled away by the sound of the elevator chime across the lobby. The doors slid open and Richard sauntered out, taking a moment to locate his bandmates, then strolling over to join them, a big smile lighting up his face. Schneider had his back to him and so didn’t see him approaching, so he let out a surprised yelp as Richard grabbed him from behind, lifting him up by the waist.

“Reesh! What’s got into you?”

“Nothing! Aren’t I allowed to be in a good mood?”

“Of course, but I’d like to know what’s caused it, so I can make sure it happens more often!”

“I’m not telling you, not yet at least…” Richard responded, risking a quick glance over to Paul, who turned away to hide his flushed cheeks from the others.

He was thankful that their ride pulled up outside at that moment, so he hurried out in order to claim a seat. Ollie and Schneider trailed after him, wanting to get seats with plenty of legroom. Flake took Richard to one side before they joined the others.

“Reesh – if I’m correct, and you two have finally got together earlier – while I’m happy for you both, just know that if you break Paul’s heart, I’ll kill you myself.”

Richard looked as though he was about to object, but thought better of it, and nodded. “I’ve no intention of that ever happening, but I’ll consider myself warned. Oh, and Flake…”

“What?”

Richard grabbed Flake’s face between both hands and planted a loud kiss on the startled keyboardist’s lips. “Thank you! I know what you said to Paul earlier - I owe you one!”

He turned on his heel and walked out through the hotel’s revolving door, and down the steps to the waiting minibus, taking a seat next to Schneider.

Once he’d regained his composure Flake turned to the seating area, where Till was reading a newspaper, apparently oblivious to the fact that their transport had arrived.

“Are you joining us for dinner, Till?”

“Hmm? Sorry – just mulling something over.”

“Something that could turn into a song or poem?”

“Perhaps,” the singer replied non-committally, rising up from his seat to follow Flake outside.


	3. Three

“Hey, Reesh – what say we leave this party and hit that club we saw on the way here?” 

Richard knocked back his shot of vodka and regarded Till. The singer had been downing pints at an impressive rate since they arrived at the after-show party, and was looking more than a little unsteady on his feet. Experience had taught him that you don’t tell Till he’s had too much, and anyway Richard had something else planned for later. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and his response to Till’s query would provide the perfect opportunity for him to excuse himself from the party.

“Maybe on another night, Tillchen. To be honest, I’m feeling pretty wiped out – I must’ve overdone it in the pool earlier. I’ve got to start remembering that I’m turning fifty soon, and I can’t do as much as I used to, much as I hate to admit it. On that note, I’m going to call it a night – see you in the morning.”

He clapped Till on the shoulder, set his glass down on the table, and headed for the exit, pausing to say goodnight to Schneider and Ollie as he passed them. Till watched the spiky-haired guitarist leave before turning back to his pint. Flake wandered over to join him, as Paul had spotted Richard’s departure and wanted to gradually work his way to the door himself, but needing to disentangle himself from a bunch of giggling groupies wanting to take photos with him making derpy facial expressions. Flake had no such problem, preferring to maintain his aura of being politely aloof.

“What’s this – our glorious leader with no limpets attached? Will wonders never cease!?”

Till belched, making Flake’s nose wrinkle as the smell of warm beer rolled over him.

“Gross, Till, I guess that explains the lack of females around you – you reek of alcohol!”

“This is a party, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be drinking and making merry!”

“While you appear to have mastered the first part, you’re definitely failing on the second. You’ve been in a weird mood all afternoon, come and join the rest of us, stop being such a sour-puss!”

Till grumbled, but he followed Flake across the room to the table that Oliver and Schneider had occupied, both of them with a couple of young women hanging on to their arms, hoping that they’d be invited up to the musicians’ hotel rooms after the party. Their eyes widened when they noticed the enigmatic singer joining them, believing that their chances of sleeping with a band member had just increased.

Perhaps it was an indication of how much he’d drunk, but it was about thirty minutes later that he realised that someone was missing. He craned his neck trying to search the bar from his seated position, but there were too many people in the room – record company execs, local dignitaries, groupies and crew – for him to see clearly. Frustrated, he turned to Flake.

“Have you seen Paul anywhere?”

Flake arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. “It’s not like you to seek Paul out, you’re usually trying to avoid him, especially when he’s had a drink or two! Do you want him for something in particular?”

“No, I just wondered where he is, it’s not like him to be inconsp…incon…to miss a party,” he finished, struggling to get words with more than two syllables out in his currently inebriated state.

“I think I saw him leave not long after Richard. He told me on the way back here that his muscles still felt sore from earlier and would probably have an early night for once,” Schneider supplied, helpfully. “I must be getting old, because I can see the appeal of a good night’s sleep and the thought of waking up without a hangover.”

Both Oliver and Flake agreed, even though Oliver was a few years younger than his colleagues. He always felt a little awkward at these events - he realised that it came as part of the job, so he attended the parties but often kept a low profile – leaving at the earliest opportunity possible. He had groaned inwardly when Till and Flake wandered over to them, as Till invariably made everyone stay longer than they’d like – not to mention made the groupies and other sycophants want to stick around longer – but from the looks of things that evening, it probably wouldn’t be long before Till staggered off to his room.

Flake studied Till’s demeanour, and decided that adding more alcohol to his friend’s somber mood would probably only serve to make it worse. Unlike Richard, he was able to comment on Till’s physical state without fear of reprisal – Flake was the only person Till would listen to when he was really drunk or high, and could manhandle the singer without physical retaliation.

“I think it’s time you hit the hay, Till. You’re going to have a sore head in the morning, especially if you drink anything else. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

“We’ll all come,” Schneider added, he knew how Ollie felt about the parties, and he’d not been kidding about how appealing his hotel bed was at that moment. He switched to English to talk to the groupies, who’d been watching the exchange with confused expressions.

“If you’ll excuse us, ladies, we have somewhere we need to be. Enjoy the rest of the party, thank you for coming to the show.”

As he’d been giving their apologies, the other three had been standing up. The girls seemed reluctant to let go of them, but Flake had spoken with Till’s assistant, Alex, who was able to draw them away from the four band members with the promise of free drinks and introducing them to some of the celebrity guests in the room. Alex was able to create a distraction by grabbing the mic on the dj’s mixing desk and encouraging everyone in attendance to wish a crew member a happy birthday – this was a tactic they used on a fairly regular basis and was code for crew members to help the band leave as unnoticed as possible.

While the attention of the crowd was on Alex and his chosen fake-birthday celebrant, the four friends slipped quietly out of the room and headed to the elevators that would take them to their floor.

 

Paul and Richard were laid in each other’s arms, bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat following their love-making. The pair were content to kiss lazily, interspersed with the occasional burst of conversation, as they felt themselves gradually falling asleep.

“Considering you said you’ve not been with a guy in a while, you’re definitely catching up quickly. Who was the last guy, anyway? I don’t remember seeing you with a bloke since…” Richard trailed off as he tried searching his memory.

“Aljosha.”

“Right! So who’ve you been with since Ali? Anyone I know?”

“Aljosha was the last guy before you!”

“Bloody hell, Paul! That’s not ‘a while’, that’s an eternity! Wasn’t there any other guy you wanted to shag in all that time?”

“One or two, but Aljosha kinda put me off the idea.”

“Why?”

“He always had to be the one on top, and a lot of the time he was drunk or high, and would brag about what we’d been up to. He also said that as I was short I could expect to be bottom no matter who I was with. At the time I believed him, and because I wanted to be on top every so often, I decided not to pursue anyone, and stuck to women instead.”

“What a prick! If you ask me, he missed out on the best part of gay sex – prostate orgasms! The couple you gave me just now were incredible – you can be on top as often as you want, babe!”

Paul blushed, but smiled wide at the compliment. “You mean that? Awesome! So, while we’re on the subject, who was your la-”

He was cut off by the sound of the door that led to the adjoining room was flung open from the other side, and a very drunk, very angry Till, barged his way into Richard’s room, and headed towards them.

“What the fuck, Till!?” Richard exclaimed, startled. “Don’t you knock?”

Till closed the short distance to the bed and snarled at him. “You ungrateful little cock-slut! I should have known you wouldn’t keep your promise. And to flaunt it in front of me…”

Richard’s face was a mask of confusion. “What promise? What are you talking about?”

His reply only infuriated Till more. He started to reach down towards Richard, but Paul tried to put himself between the two. “You’re drunk Till, can’t whatever’s bothering you wait until morning?”

That proved to be a mistake – Till grabbed Paul and hauled him off the bed, and flung him to the floor, the guitarist landing with a thud, and winding himself as his back connected with the wall that separated Richard’s room from the other adjacent one.

“I’ll deal with you later, you little shit.”

Till turned his attention back to Richard, who was now angry because of both the intrusion and the way Till was behaving. As Richard started sitting up Till wrapped one of his large hands around the younger man’s throat, pushing him back down on the bed, then moving to add his other hand to Richard’s neck.

Richard’s eyes went wide, and he struggled against Till’s grip, trying desperately to remove the hands that were restricting his windpipe, and kicking with his legs in an attempt to throw Till off him. Paul got up and tried to pull Till away, but got knocked back down for his efforts.

“I’ll teach you to humiliate me in front of everyone…” Till continued, as he squeezed tighter still. 

Richard’s attempts to free himself were growing more frantic as his vision started blurring, his hands clawing at Till’s arms, with no discernible effect except to further anger Till. 

The sound of Paul’s body connecting with the wall had alerted the occupants of the other room to the fact that something was amiss. Someone knocked at the door to Richard’s room, and Schneider’s voice carried through it.

“Richard? Is everything ok? We heard a thud…”

Paul realised he’d need help to get Till off Richard, and side-stepped the irate singer to run to unlock the door. Not caring for the fact that he was still naked, he pulled the door open and addressed the three other band members urgently.

“Help me – Till’s strangling Richard and I can’t make him let go!”

As Schneider, Ollie and Flake streamed into the room, they saw Richard’s body convulse, his legs flattened against the mattress, his arms falling lifeless away from Till’s arms, and all movement ceasing. A second later Till registered that he was no longer being met with any resistance, and he stopped, only now seeming to register his own actions.

“What have I done? Reesh, wake up – I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”

Flake and Ollie each took one of the singer’s arms and started to drag him towards the door connecting his room to Richard’s. Paul’s face was streaked with tears as he looked into Richard’s sightless eyes.

“You killed Richard, you bastard!” He yelled at Till, launching himself towards the larger man as he was being hauled through the door by Ollie and Flake.

Schneider caught hold of Paul’s wrist. “Paul – I need you to help me resuscitate Richard. There’s still a chance to save him.”

Paul threw a last look in Till’s direction and hurried back to the bed, where Schneider had removed the pillow from under Richard’s head, so his body was flat.

“I need you to breathe for Richard while I do chest compressions. Check his throat for obstructions, then tilt his head back…”

The smaller man followed Schneider’s instructions carefully, pinching Richard’s nose, and breathing directly into the other guitarist’s mouth, then pulling away while Schneider applied pressure repeatedly to Richard’s chest. In what seemed like forever, and just when Paul was thinking there was no more hope, Richard sucked in a large breath on his own, then another, and another.

He tried to sit up, but Schneider made him take a moment, his heart rate pounding out a rhythm that a thrash-metal drummer would be proud of.

“I thought I’d lost you…” Paul sobbed, not caring about how he might look.

Finally sitting up, Richard threw his arms around Paul and pulled him close. “It’s okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Schneider cleared his throat. “While I want to know what the hell has been going on, I think we ought to move Richard out of this room, so that Till doesn’t have the opportunity to pick up where he left off. Paul – can you grab bathrobes for the two of you, and get covered up? I’m going to gather up all Richard’s things, then we’ll go to my room. Richard can spend the rest of the night in there.”

He busied himself scooping up all of Richard’s belongings from the nightstand, checking the drawers, the wardrobe and the bathroom, making sure nothing got left behind. Paul helped Richard into one of the hotel’s towelling robes before draping one around himself. Schneider opened the door to the corridor and strode to the door of his own room, unlocking it, and carrying Richard’s things inside, followed close behind by the two guitarists.

Schneider turned to Paul after placing Richard’s belongings on the bed. “If Till is still on the warpath and doesn’t find Richard in his room, he’ll probably head to yours straight after, so perhaps you should grab your stuff and fetch it here, too. You don’t want to face Till alone in the mood he’s in.”

Paul nodded and hurried off, returning in a matter of a few short minutes, arms full from just scooping everything up rather than trying to put his items in his bag first. He padded over to the chair near the dresser and dropped everything on the floor, turning around to check on Richard, currently sitting on the edge of Schneider’s bed, looking shell-shocked.

“Reesh? Do you need anything? Water, perhaps?”

Richard looked up at him, and didn’t appear at first to have registered the question, until he shook his head before looking back down at the floor, mind apparently elsewhere. Schneider took Paul to one side, speaking softly so as not to startle Richard.

“I’ve called Flake and told him that Richard’s alive, so he should have passed that information to Till and Ollie. He’s trying to find out from Till why he attacked Richard, but can you tell us anything?”

“All I know is we were lying in bed, then Till barged in through the adjoining door, rambling on about a promise Richard has apparently broken, and calling him a…” he lowered his voice and whispered, “…cock-slut.”

If Schneider was surprised to hear that the two of them had been in bed together, he didn’t show it. “What did Richard have to say about that?”

“He looked genuinely confused and asked what the promise was.”

“I don’t think that questioning him tonight will do any good, I think it best if you two sleep in the bed. I’ll get some sleeping tablets for Richard, see if you can get him into bed while I get some water to wash them down.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and Paul heard water running, then splashing into a glass as Schneider filled it up.

“Reesh, get into bed, baby. You need to get some sleep.”

When Richard didn’t stir, Paul moved over to the bedside. He drew back the covers, then gently cajoled Richard into moving over onto the exposed mattress. Pulling the covers back further, Paul lifted Richard’s legs up and swung them round so that Richard was laid out on the bed. He lifted the covers up to Richard’s chest, then moved to the other side and climbed in next to him.

Schneider re-emerged from the bathroom and helped Richard hold the glass while he took the offered tablets. As the younger guitarist settled himself down, he moved towards the centre of the bed, and latched his arm around Paul, nestling his head on the other man’s shoulder. Schneider turned off all the lights save for a lamp in the corner, close to a comfy chair where he intended to spend what was left of the night.

He frowned, sure that he’d forgotten something. While he was trying to recall what it might be, a text came in from Flake.

“Got a few details out of Till. Will discuss with you, Paul and Richard in the morning. Till unconscious now due to all the beer, don’t think he took in the fact that Richard is alive, so staying with him so can tell him again when sober. F x”

Schneider sent back a quick acknowledgment, then stood up, remembering that he’d not checked the door was locked, or if he’d put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. The record company had booked up a large section on one floor of the hotel, and had arranged with hotel management to ensure that housekeeping didn’t go anywhere near the rooms until after they’d checked out, due to the late hour they were likely to get to bed, and subsequently to rise, but Schneider didn’t want to take any chances.

When he opened the door to hang out the sign, Richard started, thinking in his now-drowsy state that Till was coming back to continue his attack. Paul tried to calm him, but Richard still felt vulnerable despite his reassurances, so Paul had to think what might help.

“Would you feel better if Schneider slept on the other side of you, that way you’ve got someone on either side to protect you. There’s enough room to do that. Would you be okay doing that, Schneider?”

“If it will help Richard sleep, then of course. It’ll be comfier than the chair too. Do you want me to do that, Richard?”

The younger guitarist mulled it over for a moment before nodding. Schneider padded over to the bed, lifted the sheets up and shuffled in next to Richard, who’d returned to his previous position cuddled up to Paul. Despite it being a large bed, it was still a fairly tight fit with three of them in it, Schneider wouldn’t be able to move about much without risk of falling off the edge or squashing the younger guitarist. 

As he closed his eyes, he could hear the quiet snores Paul was making, somehow able to sleep at will. Richard was still agitated, so Schneider turned on his side, and wrapped an arm around Richard in an attempt to offer him more comfort. It seemed to work, as Richard stopped fidgeting and his breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm, as the sleeping tablets finally took hold.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No real action in this chapter, but it moves us from point A to point B

Paul was the first of the three of them to wake later that morning. He still had Richard snuggled up to him, fast asleep, arm draped around Paul’s torso, hand clutching the other guitarist’s bathrobe loosely. Paul smiled at the sight, enjoying the moment of intimacy while it lasted, not ready to think of the events overnight. He reached over with his free arm, and gently brushed aside some strands of hair that had fallen haphazardly across Richard’s face. 

Whether he sensed the slight movement or was already waking up, Schneider lifted his head up from the pillow, yawning. Seeing Paul awake, the drummer greeted him with a quiet whisper. “Morning, sleep well?”

“Better than I thought I would. How about you?”

“Not bad. A little stiff from not moving- I didn’t want to disturb Reesh if I could help it.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure how we can all continue after this. The two of them fighting and falling out is one thing, they’ve always reconciled after spats, but this…”

“It’s going to be difficult to hide the fact that something major happened over night – acting as though nothing’s wrong won’t hide those bruises.”

Paul shifted position, not able to see where Schneider was pointing from the angle he’d been lying in. He gasped as he saw the ring of violet bruises encircling Richard’s throat, a vivid display of where Till’s hands had choked the life out of him just hours earlier. It was very fortunate that Till hadn’t snapped Richard’s hyoid bone, otherwise Schneider was sure he wouldn’t have been able to bring him back and keep him alive long enough to receive proper medical attention. Tears pricked at the corners of Paul’s eyes as once again he realised how close he’d come to losing Richard.

The younger man stirred beside him and opened his eyes. Seeing Paul looking down at him, he offered a small smile. “Hey, Paulchen.” His voice was raspy, his throat still sore from the abuse it had received.

“Hey. How are you?”

“Sleepy…a little hungry…” Richard replied, making Paul smile at the use of his own words from the previous afternoon, albeit with a glaring omission. Richard noticed then that there was an arm around his waist that couldn’t possibly belong to Paul. He turned to look over his shoulder, wincing as he did so, the bruises making their presence felt. Discovering that the arm was attached to Schneider, Richard looked back at Paul. “I could get used to this though!”

Schneider snorted in amusement. “Pretty safe to say he’s not too worse for wear!”

“Bloody typical, Reesh! You’re such a perv!”

“I’ve yet to hear a ‘no’ from either of you, so I’m going to assume that’s a definite possibility.”

Schneider rolled his eyes, while Paul gave Richard a playful punch on the arm. “I could take offence at that, you’re implying that I’m not enough to satisfy you, that you need Schneider too to meet your needs!”

Richard’s eyes widened in horror, thinking he’d inadvertently insulted his lover. 

“I’m kidding Reesh!” He leaned forward to kiss Richard, then pushed back the covers to get up.

He made his way to the side table on which the kettle and mugs waited for use. Picking the kettle up, he carried it into the bathroom to fill it using the washbasin taps. Returning to the bedroom, he switched the kettle on and started preparing drinks for them all, until he noticed a minor problem.

“Um, there’s only two mugs…I better fetch one from my room. I’ll be right back.”

Paul rummaged through his belongings until he found his hotel room’s keycard, then left. Schneider got up from the other side of Richard and stretched, some joints popping as he did so. “Do you want to use the bathroom before I take a shower, Reesh?”

“I probably should, yes, although I also don’t want to get out of bed.”

Schneider shook his head in mock exasperation. “Come on, lazybones. I’ll order breakfast for us all, but you need to be washed and at least partially dressed beforehand.”

Richard groaned and pulled the covers up over his head, hiding himself from the world. A quiet knock at the door signalled Paul’s return, Schneider checked through the peephole just to be sure, wanting to keep Richard’s anxiety levels down, ahead of Flake’s visit later on. The drummer opened the door to allow the short guitarist entrance, locking it shut once he was through.

“Thanks, Doom. I’ll have the drinks made in a minute.”

“Great. Can you also see if you can get your boyfriend out of bed and into the bathroom, so I can get my shower sooner rather than later?” He gestured towards the lump under the sheets.

Paul grinned. “I think I know how to get him to move…”

He placed the mug down and stepped over to the bed. Peeling back the covers to expose Richard’s head, he cupped his hand next to the younger man’s ear and whispered into it. Richard’s eyes flew open and he practically jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. 

“WHAT did you say to him to get him to move so fast?”

Paul grinned again. “That’s for me to know, and for you to wonder.”

He returned his attention to the waiting kettle and mugs and busied himself making coffee. Handing the first to Schneider, he picked up the other two drinks and placed them on the nightstand on the side of the bed he’d spent the night. 

They heard the sound of the toilet being flushed in the bathroom, then water splashing into the basin, followed by a loud curse. “Sheiße!”

“Reesh, are you okay in there?” Schneider called through the door.

The door opened and Richard emerged, looking pale and shaken. He gestured behind him towards the bathroom. “I just…in the mirror…he could have killed me…”

The other two looked at each other, realising two things at the same time - that Richard had just seen the bruises on his neck, and that he didn’t know that Till had done exactly that but Richard had been revived. He obviously thought that he’d only been rendered unconscious. Neither of them spoke up to correct him.

“Come and sit back down on the bed, babe. Your coffee’s there and I’ll get the ashtray for you.”

“Thanks Paulchen.”

“If you two will be okay for a few minutes, I’ll get my shower then call room service.”

Paul nodded, attention fixed on Richard. Schneider drained his mug, and set it down. He glanced over at the two guitarists, wanting to assure himself that they could be left alone for a while, then made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

Schneider exited the bathroom wearing only a towel fastened around his midriff, steam billowing out in a cloud in his wake. As he passed the door to the balcony, opened by Paul to let the cigarette smoke escape despite them being in ‘smoking’ rooms, the cool breeze raised goosebumps on his bare flesh, making him squeak. The involuntary noise made Richard open his eyes, he was sitting with his back against the padded headboard, slowly sipping his coffee between drags on his cigarette.

“Feel free to shut the door if you’re cold, I’d hate to be the one responsible for you getting a chill…or covering up that sexy body of yours!”

Schneider rolled his eyes again and reflected that this was becoming a habit as he replied, “You’re obviously feeling better again. The bathroom’s all yours when you want it. Had any thoughts on what you want for breakfast?”

As Richard was about to respond, Schneider could see from his expression that he had something crude in mind and swiftly cut him off, “If you don’t answer with something off the room service menu, you’ll get nothing, and will be forced to watch as Paul and I eat our food, before we allow you to eat a granola bar later!”

Cue large pout. Paul laughed and answered on Richard’s behalf. “He’ll have a cooked breakfast with scrambled eggs instead of fried. I’ll have the same, please.”  
“I’ll ask for them to deliver in, say, thirty minutes? Give you two time to shower.” He added as an afterthought, “And no fucking in there – I’ve got this room for tonight as well, remember!”

“Spoilsport!” Richard stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, following Paul into the bathroom, grabbing his beach towel as he passed his pile of belongings. 

Schneider dressed quickly then picked up the bedside phone to call their order in to reception. That done, he fired off a text to Flake letting them know they were up, and were just waiting for breakfast to arrive.

‘Okay, I’m just on my way down to the restaurant to have breakfast with Ollie. You guys too tired to take the elevator down or something?’

‘I think you’ll work out why we’ve chosen to stay in the room when you get here. Where’s Till?’

‘Cryptic answer! I’ll be with you in an hour or so – I need to grab a packet of cigarettes from the shop down the road – I’m not paying hotel prices! As for Till, he left the room while I was in the shower- he sent a text saying he’s gone for a swim at the beach. Ollie’s going to look for him when he goes surfing, if he’s not back by the time we’ve eaten.’

‘And the award for longest text goes to…Flake! See you later Sx’

 

Around fifteen minutes later, the two guitarists left the bathroom looking vaguely guilty, but trying to act normally. Schneider frowned, certain that they’d broken his rule somehow, but afraid to either ask or check the status of the bathroom, for that matter. He’d not heard any loud moaning, but they could have found a way to gag themselves so he didn’t hear them. He realised he was probably overthinking things, and really shouldn’t be contemplating his friends’ sex lives like this. Definitely not healthy!

Choosing instead to ignore their behaviour, he decided to tell them what Flake had said in his text, and that they should get dressed quickly as breakfast would be delivered before long.

“Um, what should we do about my bruises?” Richard asked, addressing the elephant in the room. “Last I checked, cravats aren’t the height of fashion at the moment, and it’s kinda warm outside.”

“It’s a rest day today, which means we can do whatever we want, including staying in bed all day. You can always wait in the bathroom until we know who’s knocking at the door. You don’t need to hide them from Flake or Ollie. It’s meant to be wet and windy tomorrow, so you can cover up more on the way to the gig.”

“Hmm, okay. That’s the next twenty-four hours or so sorted, but I think we may need industrial grade concealer for the show tomorrow night.” Schneider commented. “Let me give it some thought.”

There was a light rapping at the door, followed by a male voice. ‘Room service.’

Dressed only in his jeans, Richard scooted into the bathroom and shut the door. Schneider walked over to the door, checked the peephole, then opened the door. The man in the corridor outside had a wheeled trolley, with covered dishes on trays on its shelves. He started to push the trolley forwards through the door, but Schneider stopped him.

“I can take it from here, thank you.” He slipped the man a fifty euro note, which was accepted with a polite nod and discreet withdrawal.

Schneider pulled the trolley the rest of the way into the room, and locked the door shut again. Paul opened the bathroom door to give Richard the all-clear, before making a direct line to the trolley to pick up one of the breakfast trays.

“You better get your ass out here quick Reesh, before Paul does his famous impersonation of a plague of locusts…”

Richard hurried out, fully clothed after pulling on a t-shirt while he waited, not wanting to miss out on the great-smelling food currently being uncovered as the trays were moved to the room’s table.

“Hmm…definitely feeling hungry now! I could do with another coffee too!”

“Make one for me while you’re getting one, Reesh, please. How about you, Paul? Would you like another?”

“Great, yes! Thanks for offering, Reesh!”

“I didn’t…” he scowled, realising he’d been railroaded by the other two, “…but I know when I’m outnumbered.”


	5. Five

Schneider was wheeling the trolley with the empty dishes out into the corridor when Flake turned the corner, having completed his search for cigarettes. Flake waved a hand in greeting as he approached.

“Hey, Schneider. Are the others with you?”

“Yeah, they’re in there, ready and waiting. Any sign of Till yet?”

“No. Ollie’s going to let me know if he finds him at the beach.”

Flake followed Schneider into his room, closing the door behind himself. The drummer cleared a space for himself on the bed, shifting Paul and Richard over to one side, stopping the pair of guitarists from hogging the whole mattress. Flake availed himself of the comfy chair, facing his three bandmates.

“Okay, so, Till’s told me his side of things, explaining why he acted the way he did. Do you want me to recount everything or have you had time to work it out for yourself, Richard?”

“I honestly have no idea. I’ve been racking my brain, but I still have gaps in my memory from the period I was doing drugs.”

Schneider nodded. “I remember Till saying, after he’d taken you to the rehab clinic, that the doctors had said that because of the cocktail of drugs you’d been taking you might never get all your memories back, especially from the time during the worst of your addiction.”

Paul and Flake also recalled that conversation, while Richard looked mildly embarrassed, not enjoying the reminder of his checkered past.

Flake continued. “That’s probably the most plausible explanation why you don’t remember the promise you gave Till. Apparently you and he came to an agreement that you could screw as many female groupies as you want, but when it comes to guys, Till is the only one allowed to fuck you.”

“Very funny, Flake – Till and I never have and never will get together…” Richard trailed off, noticing the uncomfortable expressions on the others’ faces. “What!?”

Paul decided he should break the news to Richard. “Erm…actually, the two of you were a couple right up until you went to rehab. You were pretty serious. You even told a journalist that the pair of you were shagging, but they thought you were messing with them, and printed it as though you were joking.”

“I…what?”

Schneider took up the story. “Yeah, Till was pretty pissed off about that, as I recall. He must have made you agree to that promise after the interview, if word got out that you fuck guys too, then they’d realise the truth. When you didn’t get together again when you were clean, I just figured Till was giving you some space to work out what you wanted. After a while I just thought you’d split up.”

Richard looked from one of them to another, certain they were having fun at his expense. As the realisation hit him that they were serious, his stomach flipped. He jumped up from the bed and bolted for the bathroom. He just managed to get the toilet seat up before regurgitating his entire breakfast. 

Paul had followed him into the bathroom and knelt by his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back while he retched, then handing him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out once Richard had stopped heaving. Richard propped his back up against the bath, and took the water from Paul, sipping slowly after rinsing his mouth and flushing the toilet. His throat felt hot and raw from the stomach acid and bile. He looked at Paul, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“It’s really true? About me and Ti-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, voice shaking.

Paul nodded. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Richard raised his eyes to meet Paul’s gaze. “Nothing. I’m not sure if I should be concerned about the gaps in my memory…or thankful. What else have I done that I can’t recall? How on earth did I function? Anything could’ve happened to me….”

Paul took the glass from him, and hugged him close, realising that Richard was starting to freak out and needed calming down. “So, Till’s claims that he’s an unforgettable fuck are apparently exaggerated…”

That got a small laugh from his lover, despite everything.

“Come on, if you’ve finished having ‘second breakfast’, we should rejoin the others.”

He stood up and held his hands out to assist Richard up off the floor. The younger man accepted his help, groaning quietly as his joints protested at the awkward movement. They made their way back to the main room, where Flake and Schneider were in quiet conversation, pausing when the two guitarists returned.

“Sorry…I…uh, y'know…”

“It’s okay, Reesh. No need to explain, I guess that revelation was quite a shock…”

“Understatement of the century!” Richard replied, face still an interesting shade of green.

“When Till gets back, the two of you need to have a serious conversation, supervised, of course.” Flake looked at his phone, frowning. “He should be back by now, I’ll go check his room. He left his key behind, so he’ll need me to let him in.”

“Uh, did he…did Till say how he got in my room?”

Flake stopped, near to the door, and turned to face Richard. “When you started taking lots of different drugs, he arranged that whenever we were on tour he got either the spare key to your room, or if you were in adjoining rooms, that he got the key to the door on your side. Initially it was as a precaution in case you overdosed. He never had the arrangement stopped after you came out of rehab. None of us knew about it. I swear, if I’d known, I’d have put a stop to it.”

With that, he left his three bandmates behind and headed off in search of their lead singer.

 

Flake opened the door to Till’s bedroom and headed inside. Everything was as he’d left it when he’d gone down to breakfast, earlier. He checked his phone again, just in case Till had tried calling or texting while Flake was still in with the others, and perhaps he’d knocked his phone onto silent. Nothing. This was unusual for Till when they were on tour, but not unheard of. There was always the possibility he’d been mobbed by fans and hadn’t had the opportunity to contact him.

There was nothing from Ollie yet, either, but they may have gone to different stretches of the beach. Noting that his glasses had slipped down his nose whilst looking at his phone, Flake sighed, pushing them back up with his index finger. With nothing else to do while he waited, he wandered over to the doors adjoining Till’s and Richard’s rooms, deciding he might as well straighten it up a bit, and check whether or not anything had been left behind in the haste to get Richard out of there. 

He searched the bathroom first, but only found empty shampoo and conditioner bottles, which he moved from the shower cubicle into the waste bin. Returning to the main part of the room, he crossed to the bed. The covers were in complete disarray, which was to be expected, considering the violence that had occurred the night before. As he grabbed the covers, he disturbed an envelope which fell to the floor.

Curious about what was in it, Flake picked it up. Turning it over, he was surprised to notice it was addressed to him. Recognising Till’s distinctive handwriting, he quickly tore open the envelope and withdrew the letter within, written on the hotel’s complimentary headed writing paper. His eyes scanned it quickly, then uttering a loud profanity, he ran from the room and pounded on Schneider’s door.

The drummer opened it, and before he could say anything, Flake pushed passed him into the room. Turning quickly to face all three of his friends, he held out the letter.

“Guys, we’ve got a big problem….”


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for gory injury details. if you can't watch ER or Grey's Anatomy, you may want to skip this chapter, although I tried to keep the graphic details to a minimum. 
> 
> Also: dur duh...dur duh...dur duh dur duh dur duh dur duh...dur duh....

Flake fished his phone out of his pocket, and tried calling Till. Getting no reply, he searched for Ollie’s number and hit the ‘call’ button, while Schneider read Till’s letter, the two guitarists leaning over his shoulders so they could see its contents.

_**Dear friends,** _

_**I cannot live with myself in the knowledge that I killed Richard – the one person I love above all others – because of my pathetic jealousy. I can only hope that he is at peace now, and that he can look down on me with forgiveness, as I cannot forgive myself.** _

_**It is my hope that, with time, the four of you – my brothers, my family - will be able to find it in your hearts to forgive me too. I love you all.** _

_**Do not mourn for me, I do not deserve it. Take care of each other, you are stronger together.** _

_**My heart’s fire will soon be extinguished, and the darkness beckons.** _

_**I will see you again in another life,** _

_**Till.** _

“What’s Till on about? Why does he think I’m dead?” Richard demanded, confused.

The others looked at each other, wondering who should be the one to tell him the full details about the previous night.

Flake, still waiting on Ollie to answer his phone, looked apologetic. “I did tell him you were okay last night, but he was so drunk it evidently didn’t register. I was going to tell him again this morning just to be sure, but he left while I was showering.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question…”

Paul decided that, as Richard’s partner, he should be the one to tell him the truth, just as he had earlier.

“Technically, for about two minutes or so, you were dead. Schneider and I managed to resuscitate you though, obviously. Till wasn’t in the room when you came back. We didn’t tell you earlier because we thought it might be too much for you to take in in one go.”

“Ughhh….” Richard put his head between his knees and took deep breaths, fighting back another wave of nausea.

Flake cancelled the call to Ollie, still unable to reach him, deciding to try again in a few minutes once they’d decided what to do. Paul sat next to Richard, rubbing circles on his back again, unsure of what else he could do to help him. Schneider voiced the question they were all thinking.

“What do we do now? Do we go looking for him? Tell the crew and set up a search party, or call the police?”

“I don’t know. Where do we start looking? None of us know the city, really, he could be anywhere!” Flake was on the verge of tears, having forged a close bond with Till as a result of all the stunts they performed together on stage. Flake put his trust – not to mention his life – in Till’s hands every show. The few accidents that had happened over the years had done nothing to diminish that.

“What did Till’s text message say about where he was going? Maybe that’s somewhere to start, at least.” Paul asked.

“He said he was going down to the beach for a swim. Maybe that was meant to misdirect any search we might attempt – he obviously wouldn’t know whether we’d find his note within minutes or hours…”

Flake’s phone rang, with Ollie’s caller ID on the screen. The keyboard player answered it, almost dropping the phone in his haste. “Ollie! Finally! We’ve been trying…”

He was cut off by Ollie’s urgent pleading to get a word in. Flake put him on speaker at the bassist’s request, along with asking them not to interrupt him.

“All four of you are there? Good, I won’t have to repeat myself. There’s been an…incident at the beach. I couldn’t answer my phone because it would have interfered with the equipment in the ambulance. Apparently, Till was standing at the end of the pier when he noticed some commotion on a small boat partway out to sea. A kid fell overboard and was struggling to get back in. Till being Till, he dive into the sea, not waiting for the on-duty lifeguards to intervene. He managed to get to the kid and help her back into the boat, but as he was doing that, a shark swam up below him and bit him. He managed to punch it on the nose, to make it let go, but he’s seriously injured. The lifeguards managed to get him – and the small boat’s occupants – back to shore quickly, where they had an ambulance waiting. He’s in surgery now. It’s bad, guys, you should be here.”

He gave the details of the hospital that Till had been taken to, and which waiting room he was in, promising that he’d let them know of any developments before they got there. The four men listening were at once glad that Till had been diverted from his plan to take his own life, proud that he’d managed to save a child’s life instead, and horrified at the information about the shark attack.

“I need to be there for him.” Richard stated flatly.

“Even after what he did to you?” Paul asked, incredulously.

Richard sat back up and locked eyes with Paul. “Especially after what he did. At the end of the day, he’s still my oldest and best friend. So, he’s fucked up. So have I – too many times to mention – but he was always there for me. I owe him that much at least.”

“It’s still daylight out. We need to cover your neck as much as possible. I’ll see what I’ve got that might work. While I’m doing that, Paul – arrange a ride for us all to the hospital, Flake – you tell the management and crew. Richard, go splash some water on your face, you look like hell! Change your shirt too – looks like you got a tiny bit of puke on it.”

They all got busy with their assigned tasks, wanting to get everything done so that they can get to the hospital as soon as possible. Schneider found one of his thin fabric scarves, and in Richard’s suitcase an unopened bottle of concealer and an application sponge. Paul finished his call to the concierge in the lobby.

“There will be a car waiting for us whenever we’re ready. The concierge said that we can trust the driver to be discreet.”

Richard ambled back out of the bathroom, looking considerably more human, He crossed to his case to choose a new top. He started to reach for his favourite white Sex Pistols t-shirt.

“Not that one!” Paul and Schneider said, almost in unison.

“Why not?”

“We want this scarf to look like it’s part of an outfit. It will go better with dark colours. Wear that black one with the pentagram on instead, and your leather jacket.”

Richard scowled, but retrieved the suggested shirt and slipped it on.

“Okay, now…sit on this chair by the window so I can apply this properly.”

The guitarist followed Schneider’s instructions in the knowledge that if he didn’t, they wouldn’t allow him out in public. Schneider set to work quickly, their many years of applying makeup for their performances proving worthwhile, as Schneider soon covered the bruises. He evened out Richard’s complexion with a light foundation, then added eyeliner, explaining, “If people see you, we want to draw their attention away from your neck, and up to your face instead. Wow them with those pretty eyes of yours.”

Satisfied with his handiwork, Schneider picked up the thin scarf, and wound it loosely around Richard’s neck, covering a good portion of the bruised area. He handed Richard his jacket, which the younger man put on. The drummer took a moment to study the finished article before announcing, “You’ll do.”

A knock at the door drew their attention. Paul opened it, letting Flake back in.

“I’ve told them what’s happened. Alex is going to follow us to the hotel, and keep the crew posted, and liaise with management back home. Obviously the rest of the tour is cancelled with immediate effect. Are we all ready to go?”

They all nodded, and started to file out of the room. Flake made Richard pause before he let him pass. He studied him for a moment, checking Schneider’s work, then stood aside to let the younger man pass, evidently approving his appearance. Flake followed him into the hallway, with Schneider bringing up the rear, double-checking the door was properly locked. They walked to the elevator in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

 

They managed to find Ollie in the ER waiting room without too much difficulty, their arrival drawing stares from both staff and other ‘visitors’. They hugged Ollie in turn, then huddled in one corner to hear of any updates he might have.

Speaking softly, and in German so as to reduce the risk of the other visitors listening in, Ollie filled them in. “They got Till straight in to surgery, about half an hour ago. The shark bit him twice – first on his right leg, then it looks like it gave him a ‘nip’ on his right side, which is when he was able to punch it to make it let go. The medics wouldn’t let me see the extent of the damage, saying they didn’t want to run the risk of me throwing up on him, or them. They’re used to dealing with shark attacks here, and have got their best surgeons working on him. They said it could be a while before they know what his prognosis is. All we can do is wait.”

Richard took a seat in the corner of the room, head in hands and elbows on his knees. Paul sat next to him, and put his arm around him, seeking to comfort him. The others created an impromptu shield around them, standing in a small semicircle in front of them, backs to the rest of the room. As time passed, Richard sat back up in his chair, and the others gradually took up seats of their own. Ollie and Flake went in search of coffees and tea for them all, returning with some Starbucks cups. Paul took a sip of his and grimaced, but continued drinking nonetheless.

Hours passed, the day slowly turning to night. Alex, who’d been back to the hotel to helping the road manager sort a few things out, including extending the number of nights the band needed to retain the rooms, returned and sat a short distance from the band members, allowing them their privacy, despite having worked closely with Richard as well as Till in the past.

Several hours after their arrival, a surgeon finally came to find them. There was no-one else left in the waiting room, all others having gone home or to the wards where there loved ones had been transferred to. They all stood up, anxiety evident on all their faces. The surgeon cleared her throat.

“Uh…do any of you speak English?”

“We all do, a little anyway,” Schneider said, “but the most fluent is…”

“Me.” Richard finished for him, moving to the front. “How’s Till?”

The surgeon flushed slightly, California had lots of beautiful people, but the man standing in front of her had the most intense gaze she’d ever been subjected to. She quickly remembered the reason she was there. _I’m a highly qualified, professional surgeon. Get a grip. He’s just a man … are his eyes blue or grey?_ Brushing aside her internal monologue, she took a breath before answering.

“Your friend, Mr Lindemann – Till – is in the recovery room. He sustained two bites from what we believe was a juvenile Great White. The bite to his torso caused significant tissue damage and internal bleeding, and a relatively small puncture to his right long. We repaired the hole, cauterised the internal wounds, stopping the bleeding, and sutured the external wounds. He’s breathing with the assistance of a respirator, but as his lung repairs itself, we should be able to remove the respirator so he can breathe unaided…”

She paused, allowing Richard to translate what she’d said for those whose English wasn’t up to understanding the more technical aspects. Once he’d finished, and returned his attention to her, she continued.

“Unfortunately, the bite to Mr. Lindemann’s leg was very severe. The shark had bitten through the calf region, completely removing the lower leg and foot. The remainder of the bones below the knee were completely shattered, and were only held in place by the muscles and tendons surrounding them. In order to avoid gangrene and other infections setting in, we amputated the remnants of the leg, just below the knee. Once the stump has healed, I’m sure there are specialists in Germany who could arrange a suitable prosthetic leg, so there should be no reason why he can’t continue to have an active life doing…whatever it is he does…”

“Can we see him?”

“He’s unconscious at the moment, and will be for some time. We’ll be moving him to a private room shortly – he’s obviously got great medical insurance – either that or he’s loaded – those rooms aren’t cheap!” Richard wasn’t about to divulge which of those statements was correct (both, actually), so when he didn’t respond to that, the surgeon coughed out of embarrassment and spoke again. “Right, well, once he’s been moved to the private room and we’re certain that his condition is stable, we’ll get someone to take you to him. You can all see him together for a few minutes, but then we’ll have to insist on our maximum two visitors policy. Do any of you have any questions for me?”

Richard finished relaying the information, then turned back to her. “Not right now, thank you.”

Looking slightly disappointed, she nodded. “Okay, well, if you have any questions, here’s my card. My assistant can get hold of me. Would you like me to take a look at that?” she added, gesturing towards Richard’s neck, where the concealer had been gradually wearing off.

It was Richard’s turn to look embarrassed. “Uh, no…that’s not necessary…thanks.”

The surgeon realised she had no more feasible reasons to remain, so chose to give them all a reassuring smile before leaving.

“Honestly…is there anywhere we can go without women throwing themselves at Richard?” Flake asked the group.

“Yeah…a monastery!” Schneider replied.

“But then he’d have dozens of guys with Paul’s haircut throwing themselves at him!” Ollie retorted.

“I can’t see a problem with that…” Richard said with a small smile.

“Oi!” Paul prodded him in the ribs.

Flake rolled his eyes, then addressed Alex, all but forgotten on the other side of the room. “Alex, could you let management and the crew know the current situation please? You should probably go get some sleep too, it’s getting late and I don’t think we’ll be leaving here anytime soon. We’ll call if we need anything, or if Till’s condition changes.”

Alex stood up, and nodded. “Do you want me to send anyone to take my place?”

“No, we’ll manage. Thank you.” Flake shook Alex’s hand, then the PA left in search of his rental car, parked somewhere in the hospital’s sprawling parking lot.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous smut klaxon!!

They waited perhaps another hour before an orderly appeared to lead them to Till’s room. They were guided through a series of corridors and up a few floors in an elevator, before they finally came to a halt. Before leaving them, the orderly pointed out a quick route to the main entrance, knowing from experience that they were probably hopelessly lost by now.

Taking a collective deep breath, the five of them trouped quietly into the room indicated. There were blinds on the window set in the wall next to the corridor, drawn shut to give the patient inside some privacy from prying eyes. The curtains on the external windows were similarly closed, and the only light in the room was from a bedside lamp, giving out a muted yellow glow. A nurse was next to a bank of machines, several lights blinking on and off, taking readings and noting them down on a chart. A heart monitor beeped with a steady rhythm, while an artificial respirator pumped oxygen into Till’s lungs through a tube down his throat. The nurse finished recording her observations, returned the chart to its pocket at the end of Till’s bed, then smiled at the assembled men.

“I understand that you’ve been told that you can all have a few minutes together with your friend, but once official visiting time is over you’ll be restricted to no more than two at a time?”

They nodded.

“Good. So when I come back in a short while there won’t be any arguments or requests for special treatment, then? There’s a waiting room at the end of the ward, down that way…you can stay there when it’s not your turn. There’s a tv in there, but please don’t turn up the volume, we want the patients to get their rest. Your friend’s heavily sedated, so you may want to consider going to get some sleep and coming back later, he won’t be waking up for some time yet.”

With one last glance at the monitors, the nurse turned and left the room, the door clicking shut quietly behind her.

Richard approached the bed slowly, taking in all the various tubes, the blinking and beeping machines, the cannula inserted into the back of Till’s left hand. The bedsheets were only drawn up to Till’s waist, so his bandaged torso was in plain view. On Till’s right-hand side - around where his knee would be - the sheets and blanket were raised, where an arch had been put in place to keep the bedcovers off his injured leg, the stump heavily bandaged. 

Till’s face was placid, as he lay unconscious, mind mercifully spared from the pain signals by the morphine being fed to him via the intravenous drip. It was strange for the guitarist to see this great bear of a man this way, he seemed smaller somehow, as if his inner fire had been dowsed until only glowing embers remained. He reached out to take Till’s right hand in his own, and squeezed it gently, hoping for some kind of response, but Till remained completely unresponsive. Tears started to fall unbidden from Richard’s eyes, as he struggled with the range of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Paul put his arms around him, then Schneider…until they all ended up having a group hug, none of them left with a dry eye as they took in the extent of Till’s injuries. The nurse returned, ready to tell them that their time was up, but seeing them through the glass panel in the door, she decided to give them a few minutes more and slipped away to complete a few more checks elsewhere first.

Eventually, the five of them broke their embrace, and they each started looking for tissues to dry their faces. The private room had an en-suite bathroom for the patients, as well as a second bed, currently unoccupied. Opening the bathroom door, Ollie ducked inside and emerged with some paper towels from the dispenser, which he distributed to those who didn’t have any tissues. Flake looked at his watch, realising that they needed to work out who was stopping with Till.

“That nurse will be here in a minute. We should decide who’s going where, and for how long.”

“Can I suggest, for obvious reasons, that perhaps Richard takes first watch for a couple of hours, then goes back to the hotel for some sleep, and to re-apply the concealer before he returns? I guess Paul will want to stay with him. Ollie’s been here longer than all of us, so could probably do with going to the hotel now, and coming back in a few hours when he’s fresher…Perhaps he can come back with Alex.”

Ollie nodded, exhausted. 

“So Flake, you and I should go and hunker down in the waiting room, when Paul and Richard are ready to go to the hotel, we can sit with Till, until Ollie and Alex come back. Is everyone happy with that?”

They agreed, too tired both physically and emotionally to argue or suggest alternatives. Paul gave Ollie the phone number for the hotel’s driver so that he could get a ride back, then the four of them staying behind hugged him in turn, and promised to alert him to any changes. Ollie shuffled quietly off in the direction of the elevators that would take him to ground level, while Flake and Schneider turned in the opposite direction, heading for the nearby waiting room.

 

Paul and Richard returned to the hotel a few hours later, having been replaced by Schneider and Flake at Till’s bedside. The singer hadn’t stirred once while they’d sat at his side, and Paul had found himself nodding off more than once, so Richard had finally capitulated and sent him to fetch the others from the waiting room. 

They were both yawning frequently by the time they’d got back to Schneider’s room, Paul fumbling with the spare keycard to get in, before the door finally opened. The hotel management had obviously kept their promise about not allowing housekeeping into the rooms except by request, as everything was left exactly where it had been before their trip to the hospital.

Too tired to do anything else, they stripped to their underwear and fell into bed, both asleep within minutes, awaking hours later to the sound of rain pattering against the window, the daylight muted and grey. The pair cuddled together, not speaking, wondering what the day had in store for them, exchanging the occasional lazy kiss while they slowly came round.

Neither of them felt much like getting out of bed to fill the kettle and make drinks, feeling entirely too comfortable just snuggling up in each other’s arms. The kissing gradually moved on to caresses, which progressed to arousal. Both men became acutely aware of the effect they were having on each other, erections pressed together within the confines of their underwear, and quiet moans slipping from both their lips.

Feeling slightly more lively than Richard, Paul took the initiative and tore himself away from the other guitarist to seek out the condoms and lube he knew were in Richard’s bag. Luckily they were near the top, so he quickly returned to the bed – after checking the Do Not Disturb sign was still in place and the door locked – stripping off the rest of his clothes. He helped Richard to remove his boxers, dropping them to the floor by the side of the bed.

Richard had remained on his back, stroking himself slowly while he waited for Paul to join him. The shorter man positioned himself between Richard’s legs, popping the cap on the bottle to squeeze some of the cold liquid onto the tips of his fingers. Using his other hand, he worked the gel around to warm it up, before gently tapping Richard’s thigh to signal him to pull his knees up.  
Once Richard had obliged, Paul massaged the gel against Richard’s anus, then slowly dipping first one, then a second finger in, carefully stretching Richard open, before adding a third finger. He reached his free hand forward to add it to Richard’s, still stroking slowly while Paul prepared him. The younger man jolted and arched his back as Paul’s fingers twisted and curled inside him, hitting his prostate. 

“Fuck! Do that again, Paul…” 

Paul grinned and started to withdraw his fingers, making Richard whine, before slamming them back in harder, making sure that his fingers brushed against Richard’s sensitive area as he did so. The younger man’s hips bucked in response, and he moaned louder, wanting more. Paul continued fucking Richard with his fingers until Richard was reduced to a writhing mess, Paul’s other hand still wrapped firmly around his cock.

Feeling that he would have difficultly holding back for much longer from coming himself, Paul retracted his fingers and sought out the condom packet he’d grabbed. Wiping his fingers on his discarded underwear, he opened the plastic packaging and removed the condom, rolling it down his penis with a practiced hand, then coating it with a further squirt of lube. Pushing Richard’s knees further back with one arm, he shuffled forward again, so that his chest and shoulders were pressing against his lover’s legs, supporting him as he lowered his mouth to take in Richard’s erection, sucking hard, then licking the precum from its head.

Sitting back up again on his heels, he took himself in hand, and rubbed the head of his own cock up and down against Richard’s entrance, making the other man whimper out of need. Taking a moment to savour the sight of the incredibly handsome man laid out before him, Paul decided to tease him just a little more, still finding it difficult to believe that he was his for the taking.

“Tell me what you want, Reesh.”

“You…”

“You want me?”

“Yes!” It came out almost as a hiss.

“What do you want me to do, Reesh?”

Richard actually growled in exasperation. “I want you to put your dick in me and fuck me hard! Now!”

Paul’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and he wasted no time doing exactly as Richard had demanded. Not giving his lover any time to adjust to his intrusion, he wrapped an arm around each of Richard’s thighs and started pumping away, burying himself as deep as he could go inside the younger man. He moved his hands to push down against the back of Richard’s knees, so they were drawn up against Richard’s chest, changing the angle of penetration. Paul maintained his swift rhythm, enjoying the sight of his cock disappearing inside Richard’s plush backside. 

When his back started to ache from that position he sat back up, pulling Richard’s legs up with him, so they were resting over his shoulders, while Richard’s ass was in his lap, still getting a pounding. Paul felt that he was close to his climax, and from the looks of things Richard was about to pop too. He slowed his speed down a little, so that he could take hold of Richard’s cock again, rubbing his hand up and down the shaft in sync with his thrusts. Richard was moaning and making some of the most beautiful noises Paul had ever heard, his hands fisted into the sheets, as the heat pooled in his abdomen.

“Look at me, Reesh. I want you to see my face as I come inside you. I want to look in your eyes when you come from your pretty cock.”

His lover’s face was flushed red, though how much was from being fucked into the mattress, and how much was from hearing those words, Paul couldn’t say. But looking directly into each other’s eyes was what finally drew Paul over the edge, panting and shaking from the exertion. Richard shuddered underneath him, his seed spilling over Paul’s hand, the younger man moaning softly now, as his orgasm started to fade, never once looking away from Paul’s face.

As Paul pulled out, Richard gave a keening sound, not wanting to lose the feeling of completeness that came from being penetrated. 

“I know, baby. But we need to think about getting breakfast and returning to the hospital. I’m sure we’re due back soon. I’ll shower first, then order breakfast while you get cleaned up. Do you think you’re up to making the drinks for us both?”

“I just need a moment…” Yawning, he stretched his arms out, trying to remove some of the stiffness from his joints, then manoeuvred himself to the edge of the bed, grimacing as one of his legs found the wet patch.

He padded over to the kettle, checked the water level, then set about rinsing cups and spoons. Paul, meanwhile, had been retrieving his toiletries from his bag, and once Richard had finished with the bathroom sink, disappeared from view behind the bathroom door, the sound of the shower being turned on coming through the door a short while later. Richard emptied sachets of granulated coffee into two cups, adding sugar to his own. Realising that there weren’t any little tubs of milk left, only sachets of whitening powder, he decided that he’d rather drink his coffee black and added some extra sugar to reduce the bitterness.

He poured the boiling water into the cups, careful not to scald himself accidentally, and gave them both a stir, savouring the aroma. Leaving Paul’s drink next to the kettle, he picked his up and carried it back over to the bed, tucking his legs back under the covers while he sipped it slowly. He’d just drained the last of it, and was contemplating making another for himself, when Paul emerged from the bathroom.

“Your turn.”

Richard looked wistfully at the kettle, but put his cup down, sighing softly, but not so quiet that Paul didn’t hear it. The shorter man rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll have another coffee waiting for you when you get out of the shower. Now get your arse in there!”

“Thank you Paulchen.” Richard gave Paul a fleeting kiss as he made his way towards the bathroom.

Luckily, because Paul had already run the water for several minutes, it came out hot instantly. Richard stepped into the cubicle and closed the frosted glass door behind him. The mixture of his shower gel and the steam helped to finish waking him up, and he felt significantly better after the pounding of the hot water against his skin helped to loosen up his muscles. Relishing the feeling, he lost track of time, so was startled when Paul poked his head around the door to let him know that breakfast had been delivered.

Feeling hungry at the mention of food, he dried himself off quickly, and returned to the outer room. Picking some fresh clothes out for the day, he got dressed then joined Paul at the table where a cooked breakfast waited for him.

“I thought that as we might be spending several hours at the hospital again, and knowing the kind of food they serve there, you might appreciate a large meal to set you up for the day.”

“It’s official – I love you, Paul.” Richard announced as he got tucked in.

“Would you still love me if I hadn’t got food for you?”

The younger man looked thoughtful as he chewed on a mouthful of bacon. “Probably,” he declared once he’d swallowed the food down, treating Paul to his biggest grin.

“Probably!? Well, at least I know where I stand…I better make sure I’ve always got something to stick down your throat, then, hadn’t I?” Paul replied, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

Richard, who had just bitten off a bit of sausage, almost choked from laughing, and needed Paul to pat him on the back to clear his throat. He wiped tears from his eyes with the heel of his palm, still laughing.

“You evil bastard, Paul! Don’t do that again!” Richard’s words were harsh, but Paul could see the smile still reflected in Richard’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Reesh. I couldn’t resist, especially when you’d got sausage in your mouth!” He looked at his watch. “While you finish your breakfast, I’ll get our things together. Is there anything in particular you want to take with you to the hospital?”

Paul knelt on the floor next to their cases, gathering books, phones, cigarettes and lighters, amongst other items, then stuffed them into a bag. Remembering that they had yet to cover Richard’s bruises again, he went in search of the cosmetics Schneider had used the day previously, ready to get to work once Richard had finished eating.

He was just starting to apply some concealer to Richards neck when the door handle rattled, and the door swung inward, as Schneider let himself in. Paul, thinking that it was housekeeping ignoring the sign, relaxed and moved away from where he’d stood in front of Richard to hide him from view.

“Oh good, you’re up! I was thinking I’d have to tip you both out of bed. Ollie and Alex are in with Till, so Flake and I thought we’d get some sleep, and make sure you two were ready to return.”

He looked at Paul’s handiwork with the makeup, and sighed. “Pass me the sponge – you’ve still not learnt how to blend properly, have you?”

“Some of us don’t go around wearing makeup everyday, unlike some people I could mention…!”

Handing everything over to Schneider, Paul took the opportunity to clean his teeth, so that he was ready to leave straight away. Moments later, Richard appeared at the door, looking picture perfect. Schneider certainly knew how to apply makeup to good effect, Paul mused somewhat grudgingly.

“Shove over, Paulie. I need to do mine too.” Richard nudged Paul over with his hip, so he could get his toothbrush.

Schneider was tidying up their breakfast dishes, and making a coffee for himself, when they were done. He put the tray outside for collection, then shut the door, turning to face them.

“Before you go, you should know a couple of things. Firstly, Till still hadn’t woken up by the time Flake and I left. As I’ve not had a call or text since then, I’m assuming that still holds true. Secondly, word has got out about Till being hurt, in no small part because the rest of the tour has been cancelled. Some fans have gathered near the hospital entrance, but the rain has meant it’s only a handful for now. The driver is waiting for you downstairs, and will take you to a different entrance, if you text Alex when you set off, he’ll meet you there and take you up to Till’s room by the new route, so you should manage to avoid them. Wearing the scarf won’t look as odd today, as the rain is being blown in on a stiff breeze, so hopefully you won’t draw too much attention. I’ll leave my phone on in case you need to contact me, but if there aren’t any changes I’ll be glad to get a few hours sleep. So if you two don’t mind…”

“We’re ready to go, don’t worry. Er…if you’d prefer fresh sheets, you can sleep in my room…” Paul started, holding out the keycard for his room, one eye on the bed which was in a state of disarray.

“All my stuff’s here, I’m too tired to haul things about right now…”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t offer…” 

The two guitarists headed out the door, hearing it lock with a click as it shut. Deciding that they probably wouldn’t want to be around when Schneider got into the bed, they scurried down the hallway to the elevators.

Schneider checked the door was shut properly, cleaned his teeth, then sat on his side of the bed, pulling off his boots and socks first, then unfastening his belt, he dropped his jeans to the floor. He swung his long legs up, under the covers, then shuffled a few inches sideways…

“What the…ick! Horny little bastards! Just wait until I get my hands on them…!”


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update - life kinda got in the way for a while there.

The driver taking Richard and Paul back to the hospital was the same man who’d driven them the previous afternoon. As they settled themselves on the rear seat, he turned round to pass them that morning’s newspaper.

“Your friend’s made it onto the front page – he’s being hailed as a hero for saving that little girl. You must be really proud of him!”

Richard accepted the paper, but said nothing in response, pretending to be engrossed in the story that had been printed. Paul thanked the driver, saying that yes, Till had done a good thing, but to them he’s still just their friend, and won’t let talk of heroism go to his head. The driver started the engine, then pulled them away from the hotel and out into the morning traffic. Richard handed the paper to Paul, and leant his head back on the seat, eyes closed.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Paul intuitively knowing that Richard wanted to be left alone with his thoughts for now, the driver concentrating on what he was doing, not wanting a second band member to need hospitalisation on his watch. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, even with the detour to the alternate entrance. As Schneider had warned them, there was a crowd of fans starting to gather at the main entrance, and from the looks of it some local tv news crews as well as the inevitable paparazzi.

They managed to slip inside unseen, and guided by Alex, made their way back up to Till’s room where Ollie was sitting in quiet vigil next to Till’s bed. Alex went to the waiting room along with Paul, while Richard went in to speak to Ollie. The tall bassist emerged a few minutes later, pulling his jacket on, ready to return to the hotel. He gave Paul a quick hug, slightly awkward due to their height difference, then beckoned for Alex to join him. Paul entered Till’s room with a sense of trepidation – he was still unsure how Richard was likely to react if Till woke up. He could tell that the story in the paper had got his back up, although he hadn’t spoken a word the whole way there.

Richard had tossed the paper onto the end of the bed, and was staring out of the window at the rain-drenched coastline beyond. Paul shrugged his jacket off and folded it over the back of one of the chairs next to the bed. He spent a moment regarding the singer’s face, trying to work out his own feelings, remembering the threat Till had made, and being thrown about by him, to say nothing of what he’d done to Richard.

“Why is it I always manage to fuck everything up, Paul?”

Paul turned his gaze from their unconscious friend and focused on Richard, still with his back to the room, but head hanging down now.

“I hope you’re not blaming yourself for this, because it’s all on Till…”

“You’re wrong, Paul. If I’d not been out of my head on drugs, I wouldn’t have even considered hooking up with Till, I wouldn’t have made a promise that I wouldn’t have made if I was sober, a promise I can’t remember because of said drugs, which I then unknowingly broke in front of Till.”

“Okay, granted while you’re responsible for your own actions, only Till is responsible for his. He should’ve known better than to hold you to something you agreed to while high, and his reaction was way over the top. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Paul walked over to Richard, and cupped his chin with his hand, forcing Richard to look at him.

“Whatever happens from now, I’m with you for the long haul. We’ve all made mistakes, and we’ll almost certainly make more in the months and years ahead, but we need to forgive each other and ourselves more. We’re only human, and life is too short to spend it in anger and guilt, almost losing you made me realise that.”

He leaned forward and kissed Richard softly. Pulling away again, he brushed his thumb against Richard’s cheek in a gentle caress which the other man responded to by taking hold of Paul’s hand and kissing his palm. He gave a sad smile.

“Thank you, Paulchen. Sometimes you know just the right things to say to make me feel better. I’d be lost without you.”

“Make sure you remember that, love. Go and sit down, and I’ll see if I can rustle up some coffee for us both.”

He gave Richard another quick kiss, then headed out of the room. The younger man sighed quietly to himself, and with one last glance out of the rain-streaked window, turned to face the bed where Till lay supine and sat down in the closest seat. He spent a moment regarding Till’s face, gaze gradually moving along the length of the bed, taking in the raised area covering the stump where Till’s leg had been ripped away by the shark. 

He reflected on when they first met, having overheard Till singing to himself while he worked on weaving baskets, and their subsequent friendship. How he’d finally convinced Till to join his band on vocals instead of hiding behind a drum kit, their gradual rise to fame and fortune, and how he’d almost blown it all away with his addiction. They’d grown very close over the years - apparently closer than he’d realised – but looking at Till now, he just felt devoid of emotion.

Paul returned from his errand, brandishing coffee for both of them. Sitting down next to Richard, he passed him a cup of the hot, bitter drink, then squeezed Richard’s free hand in an effort to provide comfort and reassurance. 

“It’ll all be alright, Reesh. Just take it one day at a time.”

Richard nodded, before taking a deep breath.

“While you were out, I’ve been thinking…”

“Without adult supervision? You could’ve hurt yourself!” Paul teased.

“Asshole!”

“As I recall, you’re rather enamoured of my asshole!” the older man retorted, with a mischievous grin.

Richard rolled his eyes before ploughing on, regardless.

“I’ve decided that when we return to the hotel later, I’m gonna ask for a flight home to be arranged. I don’t want to stay here a day longer, I just wanna go home and hole up for a while.”

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s what you really want. Do you want me to come with?”

“Of course, I do! Why would you think otherwise?”

“I didn’t want to assume. I mean, maybe you wanted a bit of time to yourself – we have been pretty much glued to each other these past couple of days – I don’t want you to get fed up with me.”

It was Richard’s turn to squeeze Paul’s hand.

“I’ve enjoyed spending time together with you. Well…most of it, anyway. Will you come to mine and stay for a while? I promise I’ll let you know if you’re starting to get on my nerves!”

Paul pulled a face before responding.

“In that case, I’d love to join you. What about the others?”

“Well, I was kinda hoping it would just be the two of us, my apartment will get a little crowded if they all came along…”

“No, you dolt! I meant… oh…haha.” Paul realised that Richard was teasing him now, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned at Paul. 

Richard leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek, then settled back to drink his coffee before it got cold. After he’d drained his cup he rose and tossed it into the waste bin, then went into the private bathroom to relieve himself. He pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser to dry his hands while checking his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

His face looked pale and drawn, with dark circles around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His hair was in need of some TLC, he could see some grey hairs re-emerging around his ears and temples. Pulling Schneider’s scarf away from his neck, he could just make out the bruising underneath the concealer, but it wasn’t anywhere near as vivid as the previous time he’d inspected the damage. He repositioned the scarf and returned to his chair to sit out the remainder of their ‘watch’.

 

Richard was deep in concentration, reading a book, trying to be as quiet as possible. Paul had nodded off to sleep in the chair next to him, his head resting on Richard’s shoulder. He’d almost forgotten there was another person in the room when Till stirred, and tried calling to him through the oxygen mask. When Richard heard Till’s voice he started, almost dropping his book.

“Richard…Reesh?”

Paul must have felt Richard tensing up next to him, waking him up. He lifted his head up and, on realising the situation, stood up. 

“I’ll leave the two of you alone to talk, I’ll phone the others to let them know Till’s awake.”

He gave Richard a kiss on the forehead then made his way out of the room to find a private spot to make his call. Meanwhile, Richard hadn’t moved a muscle, gaze riveted on a spot just above Till’s head, not ready to make eye contact yet.

“Reesh…am I hallucinating? I killed you…you’re dead…”

“I was…I’m feeling much better now, no thanks to you.” Richard’s voice was cold.

“But how?”

“Schneider and Paul managed to resuscitate me in time. Flake did tell you, but you were too wasted to register the information. Then, when you woke up, you were too cowardly to face up to your actions and tried taking the easy way out, so Flake didn’t get the chance to tell you again. And now you’re a fucking American hero for saving that girl’s life – enjoy your new fan club, while it lasts!”

Richard’s tone had become increasingly venomous as he continued, and was almost snarling towards the end.

“Are you angry because I saved that girl’s life?” Till asked, confused.

“No, of course not! I’m glad she’s ok! I’m angry because I didn’t realise just how big an asshole you are, or how foolish I’ve been. But I’m ‘awake’ now, and you should know that’s it. We’re done, it’s over…I don’t ever want to see you again…don’t try calling or visiting me – I won’t answer.”

With that, he stood up, grabbed his jacket and strode out of the room without a backward glance, leaving a shell-shocked Till in his wake. Richard approached the nurses’ station to let them know that Till had regained consciousness before continuing on to the stairwell where they’d ascended to Till’s floor. As expected, he found Paul there, still on the phone.

“Paul, can you arrange a ride back to the hotel? I’m ready to go.”

Paul nodded and spoke briefly with Alex before hanging up.

“Are you ok, Reesh? You look pale…” Richard raised an eyebrow, “…okay, paler than usual.”

“Honestly? No…I’ve told Till I never want to see or him ever again. That’s it. It’s all over. So, no… I kinda feel like puking right now, but I’ll be ok…eventually.”

“Alex says the car will pick us up and return us to the hotel, then bring anyone who wants to come see Till back. We can arrange our return home when we’re in the hotel room. I know the management team have been sorting transportation for the crew already, we can maybe go on the same flight.”

Richard sighed heavily.

“I’d prefer our jet, but whatever. The sooner I’m away from here, the better. Come on, I want to get a quick smoke before the car gets here.”

The pair headed down the stairs to the ground floor entrance and, after checking there were no fans in the vicinity, stood by the doorway – propped open by Paul’s jacket – and lit up while they waited for their ride.

The driver pulled up next to them just a few minutes later. The two guitarists slipped onto the rear seat and shut the door swiftly. As the car approached the main drive out of the hospital grounds an eagle-eyed fan spotted the duo in the rear of the vehicle through the windscreen, and let out an excited squeal, even as she fumbled with her phone to record video. Both men sank lower in their seats hoping that the tinted glass on the side windows would obscure their faces.

The car slipped out into traffic before the other fans and assembled paparazzi managed to get close enough, and sped off so they couldn’t be followed, the driver constantly checking the rear-view mirror to make sure they hadn’t picked up a tail. He phoned ahead to the concierge to make sure someone was ready to let them in at the alternative entrance before dropping them off.

Thanking him, and giving a generous tip, the couple hurried back to the room they’d been sharing with Schneider and knocked on the door. The drummer opened it after a moments pause, scowling as he stood aside to let them in.

“Sorry…did we wake you?” Paul enquired, struggling to hold back his mischievous grin.

Schneider shut and locked the door behind them.

“Oddly enough, I’d not had the chance to get to sleep before you called, as I was a little bit preoccupied with trying to find a part of the bed that you two hadn’t made a mess of. When I failed in that endeavour I tried looking for your room keycard so that I could sleep there instead!”

“You mean this keycard?” Paul asked, fishing it out of his wallet.

Schneider looked as though he wanted to throttle Paul, but the sight of a thoroughly dejected-looking Richard sitting on the end of the bed stayed his hand. He moved to sit down next to him and gave him a quick hug.

“Hey, want to tell me what happened at the hospital?”

“Long story short – Till woke up, thought he was seeing a ghost, I told him the truth, called him an asshole and told him I never want to hear or see him again. Now I just want to go home, and work out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, because the band is over.”

“Did you stop to think what the rest of us might have to say about that?”

Paul was frantically trying to get Schneider’s attention to stop him from ‘going there’, but Schneider paid him no mind.

“Not really, no. I don’t want to be anywhere near Till ever again. I can’t trust him anymore – I’ll always be wondering if he’s going to try to kill me again, or try to kiss me, or worse. There’s no way I could work with him after this.” Richard’s voice was steady, it was obvious he’d given this some thought.

“Okay, I can understand your point of view. It just comes as a bit of a surprise after you’d insisted of being there for Till after his accident. I thought you’d be wanting to stay with him while he was in hospital. As for the band, there are other options open to us.”

“You mean like having James Hetfield or Henry Rollins on vocals?” Richard retorted, referencing their ‘Haifisch’ video. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. We all agreed that it was the six of us or nothing, years ago, anyhow.”

“True. But opinions might have changed since then. Why not give it a few weeks, then the five of us can sit down together and discuss things. You might have come to terms with the band being over, but the rest of us haven’t had time to mull it over. Can you agree to that at least?”

Richard wanted to refuse him flat out, but he saw a look of hope in Paul’s eyes at Schneider’s suggestion, and relented.

“Fine. I’ll give it until the end of summer, then we’ll have a meeting. But I’m not going to change my mind about Till. He’s as good as dead to me now. If we can move on – do you know what the situation is with regard to Paul and myself flying home?”

“Management are looking at options. Obviously they need to make arrangements to get Till back, so Alex will be liaising with them and the hospital as to when he can be moved, which I’m guessing won’t be for a few days yet. I’ve already spoken with Ollie and Flake.The three of us are going to visit Till shortly, but then Ollie and I will come back relatively quickly. We think that we’ll travel back at the same time as you two, leaving Flake and Alex behind so Till isn’t left on his own. It looks like the four of us will be taking the jet back, so we can miss the majority of the paps and fans. The crew are flying out later today on a commercial flight. Everything has been arranged for that, including getting our instruments and all the stage equipment back to Berlin. I think the hotel will be glad to see the back of us – our extended stay has caused some disruption to their bookings, as you can imagine.”

Paul nodded. “What time are we due to fly out, then?”

“We’ve not got a set time, at the moment. The pilot has been told to fuel up and prepare a flight plan. We just need to give the airport adequate notice so they can add us to the schedule. The sooner the other two and I get over to the hospital, the sooner Ollie and I can get back. I’m thinking maybe taking off about three hours from now, unless something crops up in the meantime.”

“You’ll probably have to use a different car to the one we came back in,” Paul suggested. “We were spotted by a fan on the way out, so they’ll be on the look out for the same car returning, especially if they took note of the license plate.”

“Use two cars – send the one we were in as a decoy to draw the fans and press away to the side entrance. They won’t be expecting you to use the front door now that they know we got in and out of the building elsewhere. While they’re chasing the lead car, drive up to the main entrance and stroll right in.” Richard suggested.

The others looked at him in surprise.

“What!? I’m not just a pretty face, you know!”

“Somebody’s been watching a lot of thrillers lately, haven’t they?” Schneider remarked, amused. “That plan might just work! Right, you two stay here and pack. I’ll round up the others and get us on the move. I’ll call when Ollie and I are coming back to the hotel so that you’re ready to leave as soon as we arrive. My bag’s good to go, and Ollie’s should be too. We’ll leave them here with you.”

“What’s happening with Till’s belongings?” Paul asked.

“Flake’s moved all of it into his room, so both Richard and Till’s rooms have been ‘checked out’. Alex will be staying in your room, so that he’s next to Flake, so I better hand him the keycard now. Uh, there aren’t going to be any nasty surprises there like you left for me, will there?”

“No, we’ve only shagged in Richard’s room, your room and your bathroom…” Paul assured him.

“And the pool changing rooms.” Richard reminded him.

“Oh, yeah. I doubt he’ll have time for a swim, though.”

Schneider shook his head.

“Honestly, you’re like a pair of horny teenagers!”

“Just making up for lost time!” Richard replied.

“Speaking of time, it’s marching on. I’ll see you two later.”

Paul handed Schneider the keycard to his room, so that it could be passed on, and locked the door after the drummer had left.

“I think we’re more or less packed ourselves, after our quick relocation. So that leaves us with nothing to do while we wait for their return…”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we can think of something…” Richard said, as Paul sat down next to him on the bed, “…let’s see, what positions haven’t we tried yet…?”


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as well as being the shortest I've written, has the distinction of being the hardest I've written so far. I'm sorry, in advance...

Some years later, Till approached the front door of the house Richard and Paul shared with some degree of anxiety. Richard had been true to his promise that he would reject all attempts by Till to contact him, so it had been a surprise when he’d received a letter from the guitarist out of the blue, asking him to come visit.

Although Till was now used to walking around on his prosthetic leg, he still used a cane to steady himself, especially when going somewhere unfamiliar. He frowned as he drew closer – there seemed to be a gathering of some sort going on. He had hoped that it would just be the two of them having a private chat, although he was aware that Paul, as Richard’s husband, would probably not be far away.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the solid wood door. A few heartbeats later Paul opened the door and, on seeing who was on the doorstep, said, “You’re too late.”

Confused, Till replied. “Late? I told Richard when I’d be in Berlin. He told me to drop by any time…”

Paul shook his head and motioned to the people milling around inside the house. All were dressed in black, with a splash of red in the form of ties, handkerchiefs, buttonholes or ribbons. The conversation was subdued, sombre even.

“Richard died last week, this is his wake.”

“I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Paul.”

Paul stepped outside and shut the door quietly.

“Come walk with me in the garden, Till.”

The taller man followed Paul along the path that led round the side of the house to a secluded garden. There were a group of chairs and a table on a raised decking area, which Paul headed for. A bed of roses created a fragrant background at the rear of the garden. When they were both seated, Paul spoke again.

“A few weeks ago – after having had violent coughing fits and chest pains for some time – Richard finally capitulated to my request he have a check-up with his doctor. After running several tests, they diagnosed him with lung cancer. They found that it had already become widespread and as a result informed us that it was terminal. They said he had a few months at most. Faced with that news, Richard decided that he wanted to try and put things right between the two of you, so he got your contact details from Flake.”

“He never mentioned that he was ill in his letter…”

“No, he didn’t. He wanted you to come because you wanted to, not because you might have felt compelled to given his illness. Anyway, once he realised that he might not live long enough to see you, he recorded a video message for you.” 

Paul fished in his suit pocket and withdrew a memory card, handing it over to Till. 

“You might want to wait until you’re somewhere private before watching that, it’s heartbreaking to see him how frail he became in his final days. Luckily, the end came swiftly. He was on a morphine drip, so he wasn’t in any pain.”

“You were with him when he passed?”

“The four of us were. The others took turns helping me look after him, and were all here. He said he forgave you, that we should all look after each other, that he loved us all. I kissed him, one final time, and told him he could rest now. He smiled, then closed his eyes and just slipped away.”

Tears were flowing freely down both their faces at this point. Paul retrieved a packet of tissues from his other pocket and offered one to Till, who accepted gratefully. Their former bandmates, who had been watching from inside the house, walked through the sliding glass door out into the garden, drinks in hand and approached the two seated men. Flake handed a glass to Till, pouring him a drink, while Schneider did the same for Paul. 

They exchanged brief pleasantries, then raised their glasses of tequila in a toast to Richard’s memory, knocking back their drinks in one swift mouthful. Paul turned back to Till.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, it’s what Richard would have wanted. And I know the others here are keen to catch up with you. But if you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to.”

He gave Till a brief hug, then turned on his heel and strode quickly back into the house. Schneider caught Till in a bear hug, then followed after Paul, having secretly been tasked by Richard to look after the shorter man after Richard’s passing. The three men left outside sat down, pouring another round of drinks, and whiled away the rest of the day reminiscing and exchanging stories of their more recent individual exploits.


End file.
